


Wearing Henry Out

by fiercy, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Chris Hemsworth and Henry Cavill [11]
Category: Actor RPF, Australian Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), Superman RPF, Thor (Movies) RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 16:45:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6528061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiercy/pseuds/fiercy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a re-posting (archiving) of all logs for the Chris Hemsworth/Henry Cavill storyline in the BDSM RPS RPG <a href="http://citadel.dreamwidth.org/read">Citadel</a>. If you're interested in joining, please contact the mods as listed <a href="http://citadel-info.dreamwidth.org/995.html#cutid1">here</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Wearing Henry Out

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-posting (archiving) of all logs for the Chris Hemsworth/Henry Cavill storyline in the BDSM RPS RPG [Citadel](http://citadel.dreamwidth.org/read). If you're interested in joining, please contact the mods as listed [here](http://citadel-info.dreamwidth.org/995.html#cutid1).

"I don't know about you, but I'm starving," Chris says, grabbing a plate from the cabinets over the sink and pulling open the fridge. "You want a beer?" he asks, moving package after package to the counter. Roast chicken strips - _with_ skin, thank god - and cherry tomatoes, sliced cucumber, broccoli, cauliflower and yes! a bag of kettle chips pulled from the cupboard above as well.

"Beer sounds like heaven." Fresh from a shower (in that amazing room that should be called a rain forest or something, it's so big), Henry leans against the island, watching Chris. "Can I help somehow?"

"Nope." Chris grins at Henry, the urge to get his hands back on his lover again close to overwhelming. He hands over a beer and cracks open one for himself, quickly putting together a plate of meat and vegetables and chips. "You can just stand there and look gorgeous."

Henry grins a little self-consciously, but continues to stand there. "Pretty handy in the kitchen. Hell, I haven't seen anything you're not confident in. It's sexy as hell, you know," he adds with a conspiratorial murmur.

"I have things I'm not confident in," Chris says, not wanting to let Henry get too unrealistic a picture of him. "But I usually bluff my way through until I am. Mind over matter and all that."

"Well, then the bluff is sexy," Henry counters with a smile. He tilts his head. "Don't worry," he adds, hoping he'd read him right, "I don't think you're perfect. Not quite."

"Not quite. I like the sound of that," Chris laughs, shoving the various packages back into the fridge and cabinets, the plate piled sky-high with food. "You noticed some flaws already?"

Henry grins. "There's this one hair on the back of your head that . . . " He stops, snickering softly, teasing back.

Chris laughs and swats Henry on the ass, the plate held in one hand as he pushes his lover towards the living room. "By the window," he says. "You can sit between my legs."

The chaise by the window is inviting. The idea of sitting close to Chris even more so. The food looks good and smells better, and he likes the idea of sharing off the same plate--at least he thinks that's what's happening.

Letting Chris settle in first, Henry gets comfortable between his legs, his back to his broad, bare chest. The warmth that overtakes him comes from more than body heat.

"You feel good," Chris murmurs, setting his beer on the floor and wrapping his arms around Henry, the plate held in front of them. "Smell good too," he says, kissing the back of Henry's neck as he offers him a piece of chicken.

Closing his eyes, Henry absorbs the feel of his lips for a few seconds. He blushes when he realizes there's a piece of chicken near his lips, and can't help but wonder how long it's been there. "Thank you," he murmurs, making sure he just barely catches the tips of his fingers with his tongue as he takes the bite from Chris's hand. He can't help the shiver that follows. "Thank you," he whispers again. "It's good."

"Have you had someone feed you like this before?" Chris asks. "I can't remember from your checklist."

"Sort of. It was terribly formal, though." Henry pauses, then glances up at him. "It wasn't like this. I felt nothing that time."

Chris smiles and offers Henry another piece of chicken, eyes on his mouth. "It's very intimate. Or it should be," he whispers.

He nods in agreement, licking his lips and taking the chicken. "It is now," he murmurs after he swallows. "Food tastes better somehow."

"I think I could keep feeding you and forget all about how hungry I am," Chris says, picking up a cherry tomato and pressing it to Henry's lips, his cock starting to slowly fill again. _Again._ God.

"Don't do that," Henry answers, taking the tomato and practically moaning as it breaks over his tongue. "Need to keep up your strength." 

"True," Chris laughs, leaning back against the arm of the lounge, Henry cradled even more against his chest. He pops a piece of chicken into his mouth followed by a tomato before offering Henry a piece of cucumber and then one of broccoli. "I still can't get over having you here," he says, smiling and kissing the nape of Henry's neck. "In my home. Holding you like this. Knowing you're going to stay the night."

"Is it still kind of surreal for you?" Henry asks, looking up at him again. "I think part of it for me has been being in subspace more in one week than I have been in months together, but it seems . . . it's still not . . . it's good. It's really good and it's surreal."

Chris nods. "It's hugely surreal for me." He takes a sip of beer and continues feeding both of them. "I think we already talked about this, but I'd really given on this ever happening. I assumed if I wanted to act and I wanted a successful career, that my personal life was going to have to stay at Citadel. And I don't think I realized until this last week just how badly I'd been cheating myself."

"I knew I wanted more, but I didn't think I'd have it. I had my moments of questioning whether it was worth it. Whether hiding who I am just so I could get roles I wanted even made sense in the greater picture of life. Somehow I just avoided making a decision and then I got 'Man of Steel' and I knew it would be years--if ever--and . . . well, here you are and I'm suddenly getting everything I ever wanted and I can't seem to wrap my head around it just yet. I'm sorry I keep bringing it up."

"Don't be sorry," Chris says, kissing Henry softly on the mouth. "I think it's good we're cherishing this."

"Cherishing. What a great word." That gentle kiss is suddenly not enough, and Henry kisses him again, still gently, but lingeringly. "I can't get enough of you."

"Question is - have you had enough to eat?" Chris says, already setting the plate on the table behind him, his mouth on Henry's again.

He starts to answer, but he's cut off by Chris's mouth and he groans and shifts and turns until he's straddling Chris's thighs, their chests together, cocks aligned. That should be enough of an indicator, right? How can he be hard _again_?

Groaning into Henry's mouth, Chris runs his hands down his lover's back, cupping his cheeks, fingers delving between them, stroking over his hole.

Hissing softly, Henry arches into that touch, inviting Chris in again, despite the minor soreness there. His tongue licks in and around Chris's tongue, his mouth delivering all the passion already building right back to his lover. His groan starts out low and deep, and ends up a whimper of need.

"I'm going to wear you out," Chris whispers in between licks, working one finger into that tight heat with only traces of lube and come to ease his way.

It's not particularly comfortable. It stings a little, in fact, and somehow that makes it better. _Oh, yeah . . . masochist._ He grins into the kiss, rocking back to take that finger deeper. "Promise?"

"Cross my heart," Chris grins, pushing deeper, his finger crooked to rub over that bundle of nerves inside Henry, their cocks jerking against each other.

A soft but heartfelt cry leaves Henry's throat, and he pulls his head back just enough to look between them. "Good fuck I love your cock," he murmurs, looking up at Chris with a hopeful expression.

"Is that a hint?" Chris teases, probing deeper, a second finger added to the stretch.

Henry grins back, pausing a second as he lets the burn of the entry settle. "I'll beg if you'll let me."

"Permission granted," Chris says with a soft smile, twisting his fingers a little.

Sucking in a deep breath, Henry groans and drops his forehead to Chris's shoulder. "Please let me suck your cock, sir. Let me get it soaked so you can fuck me again. Let me do my best to drive you out of your mind so you can fuck me out of mine?"

Breath catching sharply in his throat, his cock throbbing so violently it's a wonder he doesn't come right there and then, Chris nods. He eases his fingers from Henry's body, wiping them on his thigh and places his other hand on Henry's shoulder, pushing him down.

Henry moans simply from the prospect . . . and from the firm hand on his shoulder. He licks his lips, looks up at Chris and takes him in his mouth, fighting to take every. Single. Inch. It's difficult. It's worth every effort.

"You're such a slut for this, aren't you?" Chris murmurs, gasping softly, his hand sliding into Henry's hair, his eyes locked on his boy's mouth. "For my cock in your mouth. Fucking your throat."

"Just now getting that, are you?" Henry pulls back enough to say, then he dives back in, moaning with the feel of the weight of Chris on his tongue.

Chris chuckles. "I just like the sound of the words. My slut. My cock. Fucking my boy's throat."

"Yours," Henry murmurs breathlessly, and then takes him deep again. Not quite all the way, but he's working on it.

"Mine," Chris agrees, pushing deeper into Henry's throat, hand heavy on the back of Henry's head. Pleasure thrumming through him.

The first time he gags, Henry starts to pull back, but that firm hand on the back of his neck keeps him where he is and he works to open his throat, to change position until . . . . There, he takes some more, not noticing the tear of effort gathering on his lashes. All he knows is pleasing Chris at this point, so he takes him more, then more, the ache in his jaw a minor inconvenience.

"That's a good boy," Chris murmurs, urging Henry on, recognizing the effort this takes and holding himself back for now. Confident his boy can make it and take every inch.

A sound of frustration bubbles up out of Henry as he struggles with the last inch or so. He adjusts again, and this time gets it right, practically upside down over Chris when he feels his nose bump up against Chris's body. He'd crow in triumph if he could breathe. Once the angle is right, the rest is easier, and he begins withdrawing again, sucking hard to the tip. The next time he drops his head he takes him all, and that sets the rhythm.

"Perfect," Chris groans, fingers sliding through Henry's hair as his boy's head bobs in his lap. Seriously impressed.

The need grows in Henry fast. Finally he can't wait and he pulls back one last time, leaving as much spit on Chris as he can and looking up with desperation. "Please? Please fuck me!"

Chris shakes his head. "No." But he can't bear the look on Henry's face. Not now. Not yet. So there's virtually no pause before he's adding - as he'd intended to, "Ride me."

Works for Henry! It takes only seconds to lift up, to line up, to drop down. The burn causes a yelp and a his and for a moment he can't move. Dropping his head to Chris's shoulder he waits until he can force himself to relax and open up.

"God you feel so good," Chris murmurs, wondering when he's ever going to stop being surprised by that. By just how hot and tight and right for him Henry feels like. Like they were made for each other. "Take it slow," he whispers.

He doesn't fully wait until the pain is gone. Instead he uses it as motivation to move, to get things moving again so the burn will subside and the pleasure will begin. He shakes his head to clear it as he eases Chris further inside him, finally looking up to stare into his lover's eyes. "Talk to me, he murmurs, then adds with an ironic smile, "you don't happen to have lube laying around right here, do you?" He chuffs out a laugh and drops further down, groaning as his body begins to yield. 

"Nope. Bedroom only," Chris says, kissing Henry softly, again and again, a gasp spilling from his lips as Henry takes him in further. "Although I might have to change that. Stash some here and there. Or have you stayed prepped for me when we're together."

"Yes, please," Henry murmurs, though he's not sure if he's agreeing to one or both. Right now he's concentrating on the way Chris's cock--never more enormous than right now--feels inside of him. "Help," he whispers. 

"We can stop if you want," Chris offers, hands dropping to spread Henry's cheeks, shift a little deeper. "Move to the bedroom. Find some lube."

Henry abruptly shakes his head. "No. No I want this," he insists, gasping slightly as he's stretched. "Just... some spit, maybe." He gives him a half-lopsided grin. "I'm spoiled. Push me."

"Push you?" Chris smiles. He brings one hand up to his mouth, wetting his fingers while Henry watches and then slicks them over his cock, smearing the saliva around his skin and around Henry's hole, pushing his hips upwards, his cock still deeper. Spreading Henry open again, his hole gaping for Chris's cock, forced to stretch to take him.

Henry can feel his body making way, feels like he can feel his pulse in the flesh wrapping around Chris and he sighs softly as his body finally relents and he slides further down. The next tentative move is upward, and he grins in triumph as he slides back down easier, that little bit of spit enough to give him some room.

"Good boy," Chris praises, kissing Henry again. "That's it. Take some more. You're almost there," he urges, hands on Henry's hips, keeping him from backing off.

And then he is there, and he takes the next kiss and asks for more, his tongue sweeping in and rubbing hard against Chris's. He shudders, rocking slightly, pulling back to look at Chris. "You're so fucking big," he murmurs with a soft laugh.

"I thought you liked that about me," Chris teases, using his grip to lift Henry and bring him back down, the path eased a little. "You're so tight. I'm so big. Sounds like a match made in heaven to me," he murmurs, eyes twinkling as he braces one foot and pushes in harder.

"Heaven," Henry agrees breathlessly, pressing against him to come up again, to start that ride he's been told to make. He gasps softly, then moves, up and down and over again, each drop over his cock hitting him just right.

"Oh god," Chris breathes, sliding his hands from Henry's hips to his chest, moving over his nipples, rolling them between his fingers, his hips thrust upwards, meeting every drop with a so-far gentle rock.

Henry answers with a few frantic nods. It's good. It's really, really good and he can't stop now that he's started. He moans happily, pushing into Chris's hands as he braces himself on his lover's chest and adds an occasional circle of his hips to his game.

Shoving the chaise out from the half wall below the window, Chris gets both feet on the ground, fucking his cock up into Henry harder and harder, matching his pace, his rhythm, everything put into holding back, holding out, as long as he can. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs, pinching Henry's nipples a little more roughly.

The pain in his chest is welcome, the harder fucking--that's welcome too. Chris's words? They're priceless, and he grins down at him, joy rising up in him like a tidal wave. He's not going to last long, not when every stroke hits him just right, but he's going to try.

Breath catching hard at the friction on Henry's next drop, Chris drops one hand to Henry's cock, stroking him steadily as the other hand wraps around his nape, pulling him in for one hard kiss and then another. "You're going to come for me, aren't you, boy," he says, but it's not a question. Not even close.

There's no real question, not when Chris is jerking him off and talking to him like that. Not when every kiss seems to reach inside of him and demand more. He comes, just that fast, shooting between them, making a mess, Chris's name on his lips.

"Good boy," Chris murmurs, throwing his head back as he comes with a shout, cock spurting thick and hot inside his lover.

Once again Henry drops his head to Chris's shoulder, his mouth pressed to the damp skin of his neck. He's panting, he's aching . . . and he's flying high.

Chris wraps his arms around Henry, holding him close, kissing the side of his throat. "I want us to go to Citadel tomorrow. Do something a bit more formal, if you're up for it," he says, still at the point where he's feeling Henry out, learning him, not wanting to push too hard until he knows what he can take.

"Yes. Please. That sounds brilliant." Henry would probably sound more excited if he wasn't so worn out . . . and flying so high. "Tomorrow."

Chris smiles. "Did you get enough to eat?"

Henry blinks, pulling back to look at him, taking a moment to process the question. "Food? Yes, yeah . . . plenty."

"Sorry. I didn't mean to change the subject so abruptly. I was just thinking we'd be more comfortable in bed."

Henry just grins wider at the apology, then offers one of his own. "I'm sorry, you seem to have fucked me brainless."

"Brainless?" Chris's smile widens into a full-out grin. Mirroring Henry's. "Go me."

"Go you," Henry mimics, then cracks up. "Bed. Bed would be comfortable." He groans as he lifts up off of Chris, hissing softly as come trickles out and over his raw flesh. "Ow." Then, if it's possible, he grins wider.

"I'd offer you a shower first but I like the idea of you staying wet with my come," Chris says bluntly, rising to his feet.

Henry stops what he's doing. He has to. He's just shuddered so hard he's afraid his knees will come out from under him.

"You like that idea, do you?" Chris asks, although he's fairly certain of the answer already as he picks up their plate and empty bottles from the floor and carries them to the kitchen.

"Yes, sir," Henry admits, following him to the kitchen like a puppy. "I like wearing you." It's something else that's new, something he's never done. The list is racking up quickly.

"That's a good way of putting it," Chris says, scraping the plate into the garbage. It goes in the dishwasher, the bottles in the recycling bin under the sink. He straightens up and reaches out, tugging Henry in close, against his hip, fingers pushing between his cheeks, into his hole. Groaning softly at how wet and open he is.

A hiss first, then a matching groan, and Henry's leaning in, holding on, his forehead once more finding its perch against Chris's shoulder. "Sir," he whispers, loving the way it sounds on his lips.

"Boy," Chris responds, probing deeper, his fingers slick with his own seed. "My boy. My hole," he murmurs, twisting them into Henry. "You know where the bedroom is. I suggest you get us there without losing my fingers."

Henry's eyes open wide, and he glances up at Chris. Pulling in a deep breath he nods. "Yes, sir." His muscles tighten down, ignoring the burn and the raw rub as he slowly turns. His face bright red with the awkward position, he starts to move tentatively forward, wondering if Chris will follow.

Chris follows along, his fingers deep in the heat of Henry's ass. He's always known he had a humiliation kink but this? This is something entirely new. Entirely different. Tied into possession and ownership and _mine_.

It's strange and difficult and slightly humiliating. It's also what Chris wants and that's good enough for Henry. Turning the corner is trickier, still, but he manages, his ass tightening still more around Chris's questing fingers. When he stops and Chris keeps on going one more step, he almost goes to his knees as he bumps against the nub of nerves already overly sensitive.

"Come on, boy. You're almost there," Chris tells him, wriggling his fingers inside Henry's hot hole. "Don't stop now."

"How do you want me, sir?" Henry asks, already moving toward the bed again, albeit a little slower. His voice is a rasping shadow of it's usual self as he concentrates on his task.

"How do I want you?" Chris muses, waiting until they're right up against the bed to answer, his fingers slowly, so slowly removed. "On your hands and knees."

Henry registers the loss of that touch with a groan of both relief and regret. He's trembling as climbs up onto the bed on hands and knees, sore, tired and already half-hard again.

"Mm. You look so good like this," Chris says, seating himself on the edge of the bed. "Your hole dripping," he murmurs, leaning in to drag his tongue up Henry's cleft, over his hole, to the base of his tailbone.

Henry gasps in shock, then trembles harder in pleasure. "Fuck!" he whispers, his eyes wide as he looks back at Chris, shocked that he'd actually felt what he's just felt.

Chris stops dead in his tracks at the look on Henry's face. "You look stunned," he says. "Has no one ever done that to you before?"

"No. I've done it but no one's ever . . . I had no idea it felt so damn good."

"That?" Chris grins. "That was nothing," he says, leaning in and licking right over Henry's hole, his tongue circling the slightly swollen flesh.

The first sensation to hit Henry is soothing warmth. The next is a tornado of pleasure that threatens to sweep him away all over again. Hands tightening in the covers of the bed he drops to his elbows, spreading his legs in a silent plea for more as he gasps for air.

Smiling against Henry's skin, Chris licks into him, the first pokes of his tongue tentative, testing, almost teasing. Wanting to savour every nuance of Henry's response to this new experience.

A slow, sensual shudder moves through Henry, and he stretches in place to release some of the tension. It feels _good_ , and he groans against the pillow, going perfectly still so as not to miss a thing.

Chris shifts onto the bed, kneeling behind Henry, hands gripping his hips, keeping him in place as he goes deeper, searching out every last trace of his own come.

Silence turns quickly to soft, quiet noises of pleasure, which turn quickly to moans and whimpers as the feel of Chris's attention rocks through him again and again. Henry's going nuts, quickly becoming addicted to the sensation of Chris's tongue on flesh that not long ago had been raw and sore. Now it feels like it's connected directly to his cock and he raises his head to ask what he wouldn't have ten minutes ago. "Please, Chris. Fuck me? Please?"

"I thought you were too sore," Chris says, lifting his head for a moment before he's fucking Henry with his tongue again.

"Use lube," Henry breathes out in a rush, truly desperate now. "Please. I need you. I've never felt . . . Please!"

Chris kneels up and leans over Henry, pulling the lube from the bedside drawer. He slicks his cock generously and twists two coated fingers into Henry, stretching him open a little wider before replacing them with his cock, the crown easily popping through that first ring of muscle before he shoves deep, sinking himself with one steady thrust.

Again Henry cries out, his hands fisting once more in the covers as he pushes back, trying to take even more. "Thank you," he murmurs, and then begins to babble. "Thank you thank you thank you oh god fuck so good thank you."

Chris can't believe they're doing this again. Never has he has anyone take him so many times in one night. Quite the contrary. He's had boys beg him _not_ to fuck them again once he's ploughed their asses open. He slams into Henry harder, faster, determined to see just what _his_ boy can take.

His hole has had enough . . . the rest of him? Henry wants more and he takes it by throwing himself back into the next forward thrust. Struggling to find the rhythm, he snarls with ferocity when he has to slow to get it right.

"You want harder?" Chris asks, spreading Henry's cheeks and going deeper instead, every thrust burying him balls-deep.

Henry grunts in reply, his heartbeat so strong in his ears, his breath coming so fast and hard he's not sure he can answer. He tries, though, the word "yes" coming out more like a hiss.

God. Chris shifts his hands to Henry's shoulders and uses his grip for leverage, slamming his cock into Henry again and again until his whole body aches with the force of it. Pleasure spreading through him, overlaying the pain, pushing him closer and closer to the edge once more. "Such a slut for it," he murmurs.

Slut. Yes. Slut for Chris. For this. The thoughts come and go rapid fire as he's used over and over until, finally, he goes silent and still, lost in the whirlwind of that use. He can only take it now, the pain and the pleasure intermingled until he can't tell them apart. Soft, grunted exhalations leave him now as he spirals ever further down the rabbit hole.

"You're going to come for me again, aren't you? Just like this. My cock in your hole, fucking you open..." Chris growls, slamming in so hard his teeth almost rattle with it. So close himself he can taste it.

It takes a moment for Henry to get what Chris is saying, he's so far down, but a moment later it's clear that his subconscious is listening. With a roar and a shudder (and a well-timed rub against his sweet spot), Henry comes again, though it's more feeling than anything else. He collapses when he's done, unable to hold himself up on arms that had been shaky what seems like hours ago.

Chris manages another half-dozen thrusts before coming as well, unable to hold back against the rhythmic clenching of Henry's body around his cock. He empties _every_ last drop into his boy and then finally stills, running his hands over Henry's flanks like he would a horse. Soothing him after the ride.

Still panting, head still spinning, Henry nevertheless leans into the gentle touch, craving the careful attention after the rough, punishing sex. The energy thrumming through him is finally beginning to fade to afterglow and he sucks in a long, stuttering breath.

Easing out, Chris lies down on the bed, pulling Henry with him, into his arms and against his chest. "Good boy," he murmurs. "That was incredible."

There aren't words. Not yet. Instead Henry burrows deeper against Chris, nodding against his skin in agreement.

"Anything I can get you? Water... a warm cloth?" Chris asks, even though he's fairly certain neither one of them's moving anytime in the near future.

Shaking his head, Henry shifts closer than he'd thought possible, hanging onto Chris as if he'll float away if he lets go.

"Go to sleep," Chris urges, pulling the covers up over them and kissing the top of Henry's head. "It's okay. You've earned it."

Henry manages a smile, his hand smoothing over Chris's arm in a sleepy, minor caress. The permission seeps into his consciousness and he closes his eyes. Within seconds sleep takes over.


End file.
